


Reflection

by FalconsQuill



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Multi, even though i also write his suffering, ff14 - Freeform, ffxiv - Freeform, final fantasy 14, get to know my wol and why he's precious and i will protect him at all costs, how do people make their tags funny?, not sure what else to put here lol, oh the duality of being a fic writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconsQuill/pseuds/FalconsQuill
Summary: Lukas Valentine is Eorzea's Warrior of Light, slayer of gods, and deliverer of lost items, among many other titles. But he's also just one person, and even the Warrior of Light can't endure everything thrown at them without reacting to it in some way. Here's a rough idea of how he's handled some of the more major things he's been forced to endure as the Warrior of Light.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 5





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> This is collection of chapters and snippets and whatever else focusing on my WoL from FFXIV, at various points in the story. Some things may divert from canon a little or a lot (but won't go too far off course), and it probably won't be in chronological order. If chapters are related or continue from another one, I'll indicate it in the notes or at the very start of the chapter.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter at FalconsQuill, though I mostly retweet stuff and sometimes post headcanons about my WoL. I'm trying to learn to draw to complement my writing but it's a slow process and my writing is currently better, so I'm playing to my (current) strengths. Having said that, I haven't published any fanfic for about 4 and a half years even though I've kept up writing. I'm hoping whatever inspired this continues, especially now I'm sharing my work again.
> 
> Comments are always welcome, even if it's key-smashing or a smiley face.

Lukas stepped off the run-down cart into the dust, the heat of the Ul’Dahn sun slowly searing his skin. The wind that blew was as stifling as the smothering heat, occasionally flinging sand at his face, much to his annoyance. The thought of having to comb through his tail and dig any loose sand from his ears later on was certainly not the most thrilling one. But that was later, not now.

Stepping through the gate into Ul’Dah itself was like entering another world. The stonework of the paths, the buildings, the benches – everything – was the first thing to catch his eye, and he drank in every detail carved into the stone. He entrusted his steps to instinct, his gaze wandering and fixing onto each new detail as though it was the last thing he’d see. Passing through the smaller towns, he’d heard tell of the grandeur Ul’Dah possessed, but seeing it–

“Oi, watch it!”

Lukas stumbled over something, his tail lashing wildly as he righted himself. Turning, he found a Lalafel looking none too happy, their face contorted in a glare that could put hardened warriors to shame.

“Are ye daft as well as dazed, ye bloody Miqo’te?” They spoke with a strange accent, “Ye get off the wagon and the first thing ye do is nearly walk right over someone!”

“Uh, s-sorry,” Lukas’s ears flicked back briefly, while he averted his gaze, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Aye, I can see that,” the Lalafel huffed, “What are ye, anyway, a bloody tourist by your gawkin’?”

“Oh, neither,” Lukas jumped at the change of subject, “I’m an adventurer. Or I will be, anyway.”

“Oh, another adventurer,” his critic’s sarcastic tone held no ambiguity, “Just what Ul’Dah needs when she’s overflowing with refugees. Do ye know how many _adventurer’s_ we’ve gotten in the last week?”

With a frown, Lukas opened his mouth to protest, but his so _very_ kind company continued regardless.

“Though I s’pose it’s no skin off my back if ye bite it in the first week,” the Lalafel sneered, “Go see Momodi if yer so desperate to throw yer life away. Ye’ll save Ul’Dah money if we have one less mouth to feed.”

The Lalafel continued to wherever it was they were going with a laugh, leaving a growling Miqo’te in their wake. The desert heat clung even worse than before, doing nothing to ease Lukas’s frustration. Momodi, though, sounded promising. He started walking to Momodi’s business (he assumed), rounding a corner and staring down a wide street with some Miqo’te girls dancing nearby.

He stopped dead.

“Twelve fucking damn it,” he growled.

He ran a hand through his damp hair.

That Lalafel never mentioned where Momodi was.

**~oOo~**

By the time Lukas stepped foot into the place he now knew was the “Quicksand”, the Ul’Dahn sun hung low in the sky, bathing the streets in an orange glow and harsh shadows. His search had taken him all around the city, because people didn’t care to explain the difference between the “Steps of Nald” and the “Steps of Thal”. The only thing different about them was third word! Why couldn’t they just say east or west like normal people? It didn’t help that the city could be a veritable maze.

Lukas was fortunate he found his way back to those dancing girls some time after he’d wandered off, because the new Hyuran man chatting them up actually gave him proper directions. Even if the guy was annoyed that his... pursuits had to be put on hold for several seconds.

Regardless, he was here, and the coolness of the Quicksand provided welcomed relief after several hours wandering under the midday sun. Lukas scanned the room for the Lalafellin woman he’d been told to talk to and bee-lined for the nearest stool at the counter she was working behind. She glanced at Lukas as he slumped into his seat, her look a honed “I’ll be with you in a moment” gaze, as she finished up with whatever person she was talking to and whatever thing they were talking about.

Lukas took the chance to rest his head in his arms on the counter, his ears flicking a minute later when the sound of a mug placed on wood reached him. He pried his eyes open, wishing for nothing more than to sleep away the day’s heat that he swore had followed him in here. But this Lalafel, Momodi he assumed, was having none of it.

“The bar’s over there, you know,” Lukas followed her pointing with his eyes, “but I know an increased risk of heat stroke when I see it. Drink up.”

Taking a moment, Lukas eventually sat up, examining the mug he’d been offered.

“It’s not ale or wine. Just water, you need it,” Momodi smiled.

Lukas didn’t need telling twice, downing the mug in a few large gulps. As he caught his breath, the chatter around them didn’t sound quite so much like static anymore.

“Thanks,” Lukas reached for his coin purse, only for Momodi to stop him.

“That was on the house, but I can’t do that every time so don’t make this a habit.”

Lukas blinked, “Thanks.”

“You’re an interesting one,” When Lukas tilted his head, Momodi continued, “Miqo’te are common enough here, but – and forgive me if I’m wrong – aren’t purple eyes quite rare?”

“Oh, uh,” Lukas rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish grin, “Yeah, they’re pretty rare. My mother was a Moon Keeper and my dad a Sun Seeker. Pretty sure I got her eyes, that’s where the tattoo came from.”

Momodi went silent for a moment, taking in the purple tattoo on Lukas’s left check with an old scar coming dangerously close to disrupting it. The tattoo looked almost like someone had dipped a brush in paint and left a series of softly-curling lines on his cheek. Maybe someone had done that at one point. Lukas sure as hell didn’t know.

“I see,” Momodi broke the relative silence, eying his hair with a look of amusement, “And I guess purple is your colour?”

The pale lavender highlights in his dark brown hair were not quite invisible from a distance, but were certainly harder to see. Only under good lighting and closer inspection could they be easily spotted.

“Yeah,” Lukas shifted his hair away from his eyes, “It’s... sort of how I remind myself of where I came from, but, well...”

“I see,” Momodi repeated, having heard enough stories of lost families and screwed up childhoods to know the tells of yet another one, “So, now I know some things about you, but I’m still curious as to why you were so determined to find this place.”

“Well, I,” Lukas paused, a sincere grin making its way onto his face, “I want to be an adventurer.”

“Oh,” Momodi’s eyes lit up, “Well, why didn’t you say so! There’s so much to talk about, but I just need you to add your name here…”

Lukas watched as this small Lalafel before him hauled open a massive book with some earlier pages weathered and yellowed from age, and whiter pages at the back. Momodi handed him a quill and pointed to the next blank line. He fought to keep his writing legible as he wrote, but finally he could do something he wanted, something he chose.

He knew an adventurer’s life wasn’t the easiest, but it wouldn’t be any harder than the trials he’d already faced. He was ready. He’d been ready since he first heard tales of the first waves of adventurers in the months following the Calamity. He’d thought about this long and hard. He knew the kinds of challenges that would await him, as they’ve awaited every other adventurer before him, and would await every adventurer after. This was the start of something great.

He was certain.

**~oOo~**

Lukas twisted the knife deep into the tainted, white flesh of the sin eater pinned beneath him. It gave one last shudder before its body began to dissipate. Lukas threw a shuriken to his left, and the sin eater that thought it had an opening instead screeched as the shuriken sunk in its shoulder and erupted into flames. Lukas cursed as he realised there were no other sin eaters close enough to also be burned by the Katon.

No matter.

Weapons in hand, he lunged at a small pack of dog-like sin eaters encircling a wounded soldier. His blades tore the flesh of the corrupted creatures, even as they tried to catch Warrior of Darkness in their paralysing jaws. They were a pile of slowly-disappearing bodies soon enough.

Though the battle raged on nearby, no other sin eaters were dangerously close now. Although, “danger” was most definitely relative. Lukas approached the Hyuran – no, Human, was it? – soldier, sheathing one dagger and ensuring the other was pointing towards the ground. Kneeling down, he found the soldier’s injuries to be mostly superficial, save for a gash in her leg that leaked blood at a slow but steady pace.

Lukas took his dagger to the longer part of his dark grey Kudzu tunic and tore a strip from it. It was far from the first time he’d sacrificed some part of his clothing to act as an impromptu bandage, and he knew it would not the last. Tying the bandage as tight as he could, he helped the soldier stand, bracing himself when she placed her weight onto him. She was thanking him for saving her, talking about how she couldn’t afford to die here, when her own gasp cut her off.

A massive paw slammed into them both from behind, effortlessly sinking deep beyond even the soldier’s plate armour, sending the pair flying. The ground caught Lukas in an unforgiving embrace, knocking the wind out of him as his vision went white for a moment – or maybe he was just looking at the sky.

Lukas sat up quickly – too quickly – his vision truly going white this time as blood stained the shredded back of his tunic. Something had probably happened to his ribs too, since his every breath burned like fire. Before the pain could truly sink in, it began to fade as he felt the more severe injuries mend themselves. When he could breathe somewhat normally, he spotted a healer nearby, their fairy darting around them as the battle continued.

Lukas scrambled to his feet, finally remembering the soldier who was with him. He spotted her some yalms away, trapped against a boulder. Several sin eaters hovered in the air over her, just like vultures waiting for an animal to die. Lukas ran – ran like he’d needed to far too many times before – using Shukuchi to cover as much ground as possible. He quickly found himself among the horde of sin eaters and while some turned their attention to him, too many remained focused on their quarry. So he did what he does best and started up his attacks again, slipping between them and behind them as much as he could. It was some small relief when some of the bastards hit each other and made his job just a little bit easier.

Still, the injuries added up.

Somewhere distant – or maybe nearby, Lukas couldn’t tell – a scream rang out. Even as he slew another sin eater in front of him, the scream continued. He incapacitated another one, but the scream continued. Yet another dropped, but the scream– The scream–

Lukas only caught a glimpse of the soldier’s body as the vultures swarmed over it. He carved his way to them, settling for merely maiming most of the enemies before him. The three vulture sin eaters arched at Lukas’s approach and flew at him. Though several new, large scratches were etched onto his body, those sin eaters fell lifelessly to the ground in a matter of seconds.

As the remaining soldiers rallied nearby, especially targeting the bear sin eater, Lukas could only watch as the soldier’s body became bathed in light.

_I’ve done it again._

The light coalesced, gaining a physical form, though remained indistinct.

_How many times is this now?_

The moment dragged on forever, as if the light couldn’t decide what torturous form it liked best.

_Why can I_ never _save anyone?_

The newborn eater emerged, looking just like the jackals that had first tried to kill her. Despite being newly created, it would be just as starved for aether as another other sin eater. Yet, it… sat there for a moment. Just long enough for Lukas to drive both daggers deep into its chest.

Turning away from the sin eater’s corpse, Lukas’s vision blurred. Not from pain or exertion, though both were very much present, but from the tears that left trails of dirt and blood in their wake. The soldiers were still fighting off the remnants of the horde, though they were starting to falter. Whatever cards or music had rallied them was fading. Lukas was staring down the barrel of yet another battle where he was the only survivor.

At least this time, he realised, he wasn't entirely out of tricks. Even though he’d only used it a several times before, the precise technique came to him effortlessly. One of Hydaelyn’s gifts, no doubt.

His daggers vanished from his hands and he began to weave many intricate hand signs that he neither knew the meaning of nor cared to learn. Aether condensed around him, manifesting fourteen swords, each with aether swirling off them like flames. As soon as the final sign was weaved, he sent them at the sin-eaters and watched as most died in one hit. Even the bear died, though it took three of his swords impaling it before it finally stopped moving.

Lukas Valentine sank to his knees, his injuries suddenly becoming much more real as the adrenaline faded. He dried his tears. It would not do for the people of the First to see him like this, even if they weren’t aware of his true status as Warrior of Darkness. One of the surviving healers – the same one who healed him however long ago that was – rushed over and tended to him while the others went around to the other surviving soldiers. 

As with too many battles in recent memory, both here and on the Source, it was once again difficult to dredge up any feeling of victory.

**~oOo~**

Lukas lay on the bed in his room in The Pendants, finding himself unable to rest despite the clock informing him that it had to be almost midnight. The persistent light didn’t help either, even with the heavy curtains blocking most of it and giving the darkened room just enough light to see by. Under other circumstances, he would probably be quite tired. On other days, maybe he would have been asleep long before now.

Lukas hauled himself out of bed, wincing at the lingering pain from some of the more persistent injuries under his shirt. As always, there was a spread of food on the table nearby, though it wasn’t as large as it was when he’d first arrived. Not that he could stomach anything now anyway. He also couldn’t stand the idea of crying, even when Alisaie pulled him aside and reminded him earlier that expressing emotions is actually very helpful with dealing with them. The tears just wouldn’t come now, that was the problem.

His mind latched onto the day’s events, replaying them again and again, highlighting his every fault and misstep. So many things he could have done better, so many other actions he could have taken. And yet he took a path that ended with so many dead. Sure, he wasn’t in command of those and was merely offering his assistance, but he was the Warrior of _fucking_ Light and he couldn’t even keep one small group of soldiers alive!

He gripped the back of the wooden chair, clenching the blood-stained tunic that he'd tossed over it. He had to force himself to let go so that he didn’t throw it across the room in a fit of… rage? Grief? Who knew? Lukas sure as hell didn’t. Even now, tears wouldn’t come.

Inhaling a shaky breath, he knew it was due to being seen as nothing but a weapon by so many people on the Source. Too many memories to count came flooding back, all of them sharing one common thread: he was the Warrior of Light above anything else. All that mattered was that he could eradicate Eorzea’s enemies, and for too long, that was all that mattered to the most people.

A knock came from the door before Lukas could get too trapped in his memories and regardless of the hour, he was grateful for the distraction. No enemies could find him here, not on the First, yet he confirmed his daggers were still on the table before opening the door. He wasn’t expecting to see the Exarch standing there (and not for the first, or even the second time). And after all the trouble he’d gone to, to avoid facing the Exarch back at the infirmary.

“Good evening, Lukas,” the Exarch’s spoke softly, and Lukas remembered what time it was, “Did I wake you?”

“No, you– No,” Lukas found he couldn’t meet the Exarch’s gaze – or the general direction of said gaze, at least.

“I didn’t see you at the infirmary earlier this evening when I went to check on everyone. I meant to come by sooner, but–”

“It’s fine,” Lukas folded an arm over his chest, offering a tired smile, “I convinced the healers that I’d recover better here than in the infirmary, anyway.”

“I see. And will you?”

“Uh, I mean, I suppose,” Lukas glanced away, recovering with a chuckle he hoped was convincing, “I mean, it beats being stuck in the infirmary.”

The Exarch returned a soft smile before – even without seeing his whole face – concern overwrote his features, “Lukas… Are you okay?”

“I’m fi–” The words caught in his throat, his voice abandoning him. 

The Exarch waited patiently, his demeanour neither showing nor hiding any irritation or impatience as Lukas tried to figure out what he wanted to say. Yet no matter how long the silence dragged on, Lukas could not decide and his voice would not come back to him.

“Lukas,” If Lukas couldn’t look at the Exarch before, he sure as hell couldn’t now, “Do you want to talk?”

His voice still failing him, Lukas merely nodded once.

“May I come in?”

_Shit, they were still standing in the doorway._

Lukas nodded once more and stepped aside. As the Exarch closed the door softly behind them, Lukas hoped that the Exarch would do the talking. His own voice would most certainly betray him.

**Author's Note:**

> I got lost in Ul'Dah when I first started playing. I also used to think Ul'Dah was huge, then the rest of the game happened. I've been playing since August 2019 and I wouldn't trade this game for the world. I wish I could be a cat boy.


End file.
